"Close the door, Louise."
Mr. Peabody kept his hold on Bob's collar and from time to time he
shook him vigorously, whether with the idea of shaking the
stubbornness out of him or merely to indicate that he held the whip
hand, Betty was undecided.
"You can let go of Bob," she said heatedly, as soon as they were in
the room with the door shut. "He isn't going to run away."
"I'll see that he doesn't," was the grim reply. "You hand over that
deed, young man, or I'll call a policeman in two minutes."
"I tell you I haven't got it!" protested Bob desperately. "I never
saw the thing. What would I be doing with a paper of yours? I haven't
got it, and that's all there is to it."
"Of course he hasn't!" For the life of her Betty could not keep
still, though perhaps caution dictated that she hold her tongue. "I
know he hasn't that deed, Mr. Peabody. And having him arrested won't
give you what he hasn't got."
"How do you know he hasn't got it?" demanded the farmer. "Deeds
don't walk off and hide themselves, young lady. Bob happens to know
why I want that deed. And if he doesn't produce it, and that mighty
quick, he'll find himself where they can shake the truth out of him
with no fooling.
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